


Of Ichor and Teeth

by wisepuma23



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Blood and Injury, Brotherly Angst, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Centaurs, Fox!Wilbur, Happy Ending, Harpies, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, MOSTLY EVERYONE IS A CENTAUR POG, Minecraft lore, Mutilation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Subterfuge, Torture, U HEARD ME FOXBUR IN THIS HOUSE, Villain Wilbur Soot, bee!Tubbo, hoglin!Techno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisepuma23/pseuds/wisepuma23
Summary: "I'mnota fucking furry!" Tommy shouted.Dream's tail flickered behind him, the plastic cat ears outstretched, "Then what are you?"Tommy flinched, "I...I don't know."In a world where the line between animal and Player blurred, it was easy to forget about 'civilized' behavior like not tearing into a porkchop raw. Schlatt's Administration freed a madhouse of cooped-up centaurs all too ready to raze the pristine fields of the Dream SMP. Quackity and Tubbo try their best to lead a nation against eating itself alive.Meanwhile in Pogtopia, Wilbur paces the ravine, growinghungrierby the day. His eyes lingering on Tommy's blunt teeth, his smallfleshystature, and it's clearer more than ever that he's arunt. Runts didn't deserve to live in the pack. But every time he moves close, Technoblade's grip on his sword tightens. His husks glinting in the lowlight. Fine, he'd bid his time...
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 16
Kudos: 249





	Of Ichor and Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** :  
> implied abuse, manipulation, extreme violence, blood, body mutilation, torture
> 
> rip quackity and tubbo, man

Quackity opened his eyes, blinking blearily at the moonlight shining through the panes of their White House. The bedsheets cold with emptiness at the tip of his fingers. Again. Quackity breathed in. Schlatt’s scent didn’t smell old. Maybe he went out for a walk. Old people didn’t sleep well through the night anyway. He could see it in how Schlatt’s fingers shook whenever he signed papers. Or squinted real hard sometimes. 

He breathed out.

Schlatt married him, so Quackity loved every quirk and sigh. No matter how much of an old goat he was, Quackity felt lucky to have him. His deep voice rumbling in his ears. _Hey baby, you’re the love of my life._

Quackity sat up, his wings ruffling in the soft stillness.

Their house didn’t creak with hooves. Truly empty. At least for a few hours. Quackity looked down at his wings, blue dowry feathers darkened to black at the tips. He knew not many ducks looked like him but his Mama told him that they were jealous. He traced his fingers down his hips where it disappeared into feathers and the lower body of a duck. Those lingering looks said it all. He smirked as he turned his torso around to run his fingers through his wings. Schlatt’s voice crooned in his ear.

_You’re gorgeous, darling._

Quackity preened. Damn right! 

Moonlight dripped through his feathers as he worked from the base to the tips. Lower and lower each time. He pulled out wayward feathers and bits of grass. Not much. 

He froze.

At the edge of the moonlight, he saw a dark muddy print stamped on his secondaries. Quackity pulled his wing closer. Yes, definitely a _hoof-print._ Schlatt must’ve forgotten again. Quackity told him _not_ to step on his wings like seventeen times! He knew his husband could get a little passionate. 

_It’s like a lovemark! So everyone can see who you belong to. You’re the only person on this server that deserves me, baby._

Quackity pouted, that man had a way with words.

Damn him.

He started to pull on the caked mud, wincing as it peeled away from his skin. He picked away the grit at the edges. Then paused. Oh, what was he _doing?_ Quackity hesitated. The crickets chirped outside as the curtains wavered. 

“This is how he shows love,” Quackity whispered to himself, “Oceania help me, of course a goat expressing love is gonna look different to a bird! Wow, I’m an idiot,” He slapped his forehead, “No wonder he’s upset whenever I clean it!”

He wrinkled his nose down at the possessive mark.

“Marriage is about compromise,” Quackity said, “Besides like, if it makes him happy, I’m happy too. Schlatt is my honey boo.”

He traced the mark, he could put up with the itchiness for a few days. Anything could roll off a duck, his mama said. More lingering looks didn’t mean anything. He’s put up with worse. Schlatt’s eyes were the only ones that could _look_ at him like he was something. Bigger than a title...or a birthplace. 

_Wilbur looked at him, “You can’t come into this country, its 'cause you’re not —” _

**SLAM!**

Quackity flinched, then relaxed as he heard hooves downstairs. Schlatt came home finally. He glanced up at the moon, huh past midnight. Quackity wondered if he could roll over and pretend to be asleep when he saw the silhouette of horns from the stairs.

Too late.

“Hey, babe,” Quackity adjusted his pajama shirt, “Went out for a walk again? You know most people think during the daytime. More sleep is a good thing.”

Schlatt chuckled as he hung away his blazer, “Not for me. I’m the new president and I got so much to do. So many plans and I’ve yet to begin!” He ran a hand through his hair, “We’re gonna make this shithole better, darling, like how about an office?!”

“Where?”

Schlatt hopped over to the window in a few clops, “Where? _Where?_ Anywhere!” He slammed the glass, “There ain’t no more walls to hold us back anymore, babe. When I said we were expanding, we’re _expanding._ ”

Quackity’s breath left in a whoosh, “Whoa.”

“Yeah whoa,” Schlatt smirked, “ _L’Manberg_ talked about freedom but with those stupid walls gone, the citizens can finally run to their heart’s content. Run and graze on all those fields! It makes me wanna weep! But I won’t cause I physically cannot cry, had it surgically removed after Minx and…”

Schlatt trailed off.

Quackity reached up and squeezed his hand, “Honey…that’s super weird.”

“I know and you love me anyway,” Schlatt said, smirk back again, “But I’m worried about the state of this country. I have to keep us _safe_ from those **_tyrants_**! They know this place inside and out, and any citizen will feel _pity_ for them. Enough to commit treason just cause Wilbur blinked his stupid dewy eyes. Those damn feral—”

Schlatt slammed the glass again.

“Schlatt?”

“Freedom comes at a steep price, my friend.”

Quackity swallowed, “W-What do you mean?”

“We can set up however many checkpoints on the roads to know who comes in and out of our territory, but we will always _always_ fail to capture all traitors that way,” Schlatt pulled his hand away to clasp them behind his back, “We might capture some but not all. Wilbur won’t pick that route, he’ll pick someone that can fly. Over every roadblock and checkpoint.”

Schlatt turned his face to look at him, “The smartest strategy would be to clip every winged person in our country. Anyone that doesn’t comply would be treason. You understand, my love?”

Quackity frowned, “Yeah but I think that’s...extreme?”

“No, no, no darling,” Schlatt kneeled on the floor, his hooves tucked beneath his haunches as he took up Quackity’s hands, “You’re getting this all wrong! You aren’t supposed to **_think_** _,_ why else did I spend all night doing that for you? You gotta look pretty with your plump feathers on the cabinet, babe.”

Quackity blushed, “Yeah that’s right, I’m the prettiest bird around here.”

“I’d like to clip your wings first, to show everyone it’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll clean it too, like you’re always asking me to, it’ll be so shiny that everyone will have to wear sunglasses like Eret to even _look_ at it!”

“Oh my god yes! Yes of course!”

Schlatt kissed his knuckles, “Oh you’re the best! Thank the fucking Warden, I married ya!”

Quackity smiled, bright and shy. He loved the way Schlatt looked at him like he was _divine_. He leaned down and nuzzled Schlatt’s nose, enjoying the way it twitched. Cute little corazon. Quackity pulled away just in time to see the rare red blush dotting his cheeks.

Schlatt coughed, “So I’ll just sit on my hooves and you drape your wings over my lap. I’ll take care of you, babe. I’ll be gentle, swear.”

“I can take off my shirt?”

Schlatt bleated, “N-no need! We _do_ have to wake up on time tomorrow. Today? Eh, whatever. Just rest tonight, утка.”

Quackity sat closer to the edge of the bed, his feathers ruffling with excitement. Not so much at the _clipping_ but at the attention his husband gave him. Sure he’s had his doubts whether Schlatt really liked him, but he could see it now with the way his tail twitched with nerves.

He draped his dark wings over Schlatt’s lap. Thick fingers ran through his feathers and a shiver crawled up his spine. Each scratch and pet careful and gentle, and he adored the way his ears flickered with concentration. Schlatt pulled out some loose feathers. Straightened his primary and secondary until a Peacock would glare with jealousy. Soon, their bedroom floor disappeared under a pile of black and blue feathers.

“You’re good at this, Schlatt,” Quackity said, his eyes had fallen shut a while ago to become putty under his husband’s hands, “Did this before?”

“No, not really,” Schlatt said, “I read a lot of books. And it’s not that much different than grooming in general.”

“Mmm,” Quackity said, “Keep your secrets.”

Schlatt started to rub at his hoof-mark, “It’s a bit weird for you to call me Schlatt still when we’re alone. Might as well call me Jay. We’re married aren’t we?”

Quackity stuttered, then he heard Schlatt shout as his wings ruffled along with his heart. He stilled his feathers, hoping he hadn’t ruined his husband’s good mood. Husband. It still made him a bit giddy even if it’s been months.

“Jay,” Quackity tried the name on his tongue, “Yeah I like it, it’s pretty.”

“You’d think anything I do is pretty.”

Quackity turned to glance down at the hoofmark, Jay still picking out mud, “Not everything. Besides aren’t I legally obligated to be your simp?”

Schlatt bleat-laughed, “Yes, yes you are.”

Quackity let the silence wrap around them like a comfortable blanket. The moon rose higher in the sky. Schlatt didn’t tug or yank too hard on the dirtied feathers like he expected. It was like the rough guy he was before disappeared like a bad mirage. He pressed this memory close to his heart with every whispered coo at his feathers and his beauty.

Jay treated him like he wore Oceania’s fragile scales, dowry soft as the Sky Gods’ clouds, and tended to him like a gardener to Overworld’s flowers. Jay’s face reverent like a bee to its Queen. It made him itch for his guitar and **_sing_** _._ Quackity whispered a prayer under his breath instead. If he hadn’t pooled his votes...he never would’ve ended up here. 

“I’ll get the scissors, darling,” Jay dropped a kiss to his shoulder, “Don’t move, I’d hate for you to ruin all of my work.”

_Loved._

Quackity watched the moon rise and the stars move languidly through the night sky, the _snips_ of scissors a quiet song behind him. It didn’t hurt. More feathers fell onto the floors and he wondered if he could order someone to clean it up. Vice Presidents didn’t really have to do shit. Jay fretted whether he cut too close to the quick.

He never did.

Quackity wondered why his hands were so steady and his eyes sharp in the darkness, it didn't match with his shakiness and wobbly voice yesterday. No, stop. He didn’t question small mercies. Schlatt’s voice echoed in his head, _don’t question me._ So he didn’t.

The next day, in the sunshine, the weight on his shoulders lighter as he walked around. Quackity looked up to the skies. Birdtaurs and harpies flew through the air, their wings shimmering in the sun. His back muscles tensed out of instinct as he pushed his feet against the ground ready to join his flock. A laugh built up at the back of his throat. Ready to _fly!_

**But he didn’t.**

Schlatt’s hand rested on the small of his back, “I have a new Presidential Announcement to make on Friday. In the meantime,” Quackity couldn’t tear his eyes away from his flying friends, “Gather the addresses of everyone who has wings, bird or not, here in Manberg. Inform the Captain-General by tomorrow night. No later, Punz doesn’t appreciate delays.”

Quackity bowed his head, “Yes, Mr. President.”

For the first time, he didn’t feel _pride_ for his wings anymore. 

* * *

Tubbo got the message on his communicator the same as everyone else. Early on Friday morning, in the middle of brushing his teeth, it buzzed. He flew over to his communicator, forgotten upstairs of the main Embassy. Toothbrush still in mouth, his bee bristles twitched as he read it.

_NEW SAFETY RULING AT NOON! ARRIVAL MANDATORY!_

He picked up the pace and skipped breakfast.

Cabinet members like him arrived early for the presidential announcement to sit at Schlatt’s side. Everyone else trickled in. Regular citizens crowded at the bottom of the Podium, curious chatter among them, and it reminded him too much of the last time everyone gathered here. It’s been a few weeks since the L’Manberg Election. Tubbo hugged himself.

A hand landed on his shoulder, he flinched.

“Whoa easy, it’s just me,” Schlatt ruffled his head until his antennas twitched, “There’s no need to be spooked.”

“Sorry sir,” Tubbo leaned away with a smile, “Just some bad memories.”

“No need to explain,” Schlatt said, “I get exactly what you mean. I know things have been a bit _tense_ without the walls. Not everyone approves, you know?”

“R-right.”

Quackity arrived with a huff of feathers, “I’m here! I got held up by some _putas_ down there that didn’t know the meaning of ‘excuse me’!”

Tubbo tilted his head, “But couldn’t you just fly—”

“Schlatt! Isn’t it about time for your speech?” Quackity cut him off, his wings tight to his sides even as he waved his arms with a grin, “We’re all jazzed to hear what our president has to say. You get me?”

Schlatt’s ears flickered, “Yeah, you’re right. You two, go sit down with the Cabinet. I’ll be starting in a minute.”

Quackity waddled over to his seat on Schlatt’s left while Tubbo fluttered over to his right. He pressed his delicate bee wings close against his back. He could hear the clip-clop of impatient hooves and claws on the smooth stone below as Schlatt cleared his throat. His horns seemed sharper in the noon sun. He gave a guttural noise that only a goat could make that stilled the world.

“Glad all of you could make it!” Schlatt said with his snake-oil grin, “I’m just going to talk about the elephant in the room. No, not you. Actually, I could talk about you later but I prefer to do it behind your back,” He chuckled, “No no no, I’d like to talk about the border walls and my Executive Order to tear them down. Let me be clear, everything I do is for the good of this country, you understand?”

Tubbo didn’t like this.

The bristles on the back of his neck stood up. It made him itch. Tubbo resisted the urge because he was pretty sure the Secretary of State didn’t do stuff like that. He wasn’t really sure. His antennas twitched again.

He tuned back in.

“Those walls have _confined_ all of you, I mean look at those fields! Wouldn’t be nice to run and run through it all? My citizens, you deserve to roam like anyone else in this world,” Schlatt grinned with all of his teeth, “Freedom is one of the ideals Manberg is built on. And it comes at a great price.”

A price? Tubbo tucked the information away. Maybe Schlatt wanted to wage war on Dream, it would make sense since expansion meant invading his territories. His fingers ached with the memory of war. Of pulling out arrows from his leg and shoving Tommy to stay down. He really didn’t want to go to war again. 

But like before, no one cared what he thought.

“Flying is outlawed immediately, anyone seen with wings will be executed... _permanently._ The government will assign you an appointment to either clip them or render them incapable of flight for our non-feathered friends. It will appear on your communicator once this meeting ends,” Schlatt smiled just as squawks cried from the crowd.

He didn’t hear Schlatt’s explanation, it came in one ear and out the other. Instead he focused on how static numbed his hands and crawled up his arms. Everything seemed far away and wobbly. Like he ate too many pieces of rotten flesh.

“Quackity, come up here!” Schlatt waved him over, “Show these fine citizens that it’s nothing to be scared of. It’s a simple safety procedure.”

Quackity smirked as he adjusted his sunglasses. Then sauntered over to Schlatt’s side with his wings spread as if preening. Tubbo’s antennas flattened at the sheared duck wings, yet it didn’t look bloody or torn. Just a lot shorter like a bad haircut. Quackity beamed as the squawks quietened in the crowd. The ruffles of various wings put away.

Quackity didn’t smell right, his antennas told him. Tubbo looked closer as Quackity hung on Schlatt’s arm. His smile too wide and the muscles hidden at the base of his wings tense. Tubbo didn’t know what it meant but he kept it away in his head.

“Ask not what your country can do for you, but what _you_ can do for your country like some guy once said,” Quackity laughed, “Anyone who doesn’t comply means they’re a traitor and you know what happens to them! Tell them, babe.”

“Nothing good.”

Quackity’s wings shivered, “Oh lala! But yeah the first government appointment is mandatory and after that, if any guards see wings, they won’t be as kind as our service workers.” 

Schlatt leaned into the mic, “Only this once though, and I’m not giving out any more government handouts under my administration. I ain’t Obama. So deal with it.”

Quackity clapped his hands, “Thank you everyone! Make sure you arrive on time!”

And with that, the Presidential Announcement was over.

Tubbo froze at the _buzz_ of his communicator from his belt. He pulled it out to look at the new message.

_SCHLATT’S NEW OFFICE IN 30 MINUTES - BE THERE!_

A shadow loomed over him. Tubbo looked up and held back his squeak at Schlatt’s grin. _Queen Bee help him now._ Tubbo gulped as he fluttered up to meet Schlatt’s eye level. He tucked away his communicator as Schlatt waved at him to follow.

“Tubbo I really hate to do this,” Schlatt stepped down the stairs, “But like I told Quackity, I expect my Cabinet members to represent me and the country, not only that, but to set an example for our citizens. You heard them as well I. Screechy bastards.”

Tubbo’s buzz from the seat of his bee chest rumbled louder.

“I’m glad you agree!” 

“But s-sir, I have different wings than Quackity,” Tubbo said as he wrung his hands, following his president through the bustling streets, “I’ve never heard of someone clipping Bee wings. My legs aren’t really meant for walking and L’Ma— _Manberg_ is already so big.”

“Are you planning to go anywhere?” 

“Well no—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Schlatt paused to shake some hands, Tubbo nervously circled above to avoid the horns and flickering ears, “And about your tiny legs, nothing like a few trips to the Gym to fix that! It’s the same thing I tell Big Q, you want to be a _real_ man don’t you? Impress your Queen back home, right?”

“Not really,” Tubbo’s knuckles whitened for a moment, “Besides _you’re_ the only official I’m loyal to now, she’s an old memory now. Although do you like Royal Jelly? She liked that a lot.”

The starched outline of Schlatt’s Office came into view as they turned a corner.

“You got alcohol instead, kid?” Schlatt laughed before he could stutter out an answer, “There’s no need to butter me up, Big T. You’re not getting an allowance, I think hunting down TommyInnit is enough of a lesson in responsibility. You _are_ doing that?”

“I’m—”

“Look at me asking stupid questions! Of course you are,” Schlatt shoved him through the door and Tubbo’s bristles prickled at the _click_ of Schlatt locking it behind him, “This won’t take long, my friend. I assure you it’s a formality I’d like to get over with sooner rather than later.”

Tubbo hovered close to the ceiling. His eyes tracked Schlatt’s languid movements around the office to pull the curtains shut. Schlatt seemed at ease, even so far to twitch his little tail like he’d been fed enough apples to last a lifetime.

Tubbo held the edges of his sleeves in a death grip. He willed his voice not to shake, not to tremble in that way Tommy’s mocked so many times before, like a _child_. But he had a feeling it didn’t work.

“Wh-where’s the service worker?” Tubbo asked.

“Not coming,” Schlatt pulled another curtain, “I like to handle my own people.”

Tubbo swallowed, “Schlatt, what are you doing?”

“You’re my Right Hand Man, but it looks like you’ve got so much more to learn,” Schlatt pulled out a stool across from the desk at the back of the room, “Never _ever_ question me. Do what you’re told. And we won’t have any problems.”

Schlatt pulled out a large pair of scissors from a drawer, “Do we have a problem, Tubbo?”

“N-no.”

“Good, now sit down here,” Schlatt’s sharp grin didn’t broker any argument, “What’s with the hesitation, my little bee friend? You aren’t a traitor are you?”

“No!” 

Schlatt raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just uhm— nervous, you know how your hands shake, sir,” Tubbo wrung his hands but he couldn’t think of any way to escape the glint of scissors brandished in the open, “Sorry. I’ll be right down.” 

Tubbo’s antennas wavered and he resisted the urge to launch himself through a window. He tapped down age-old instincts as he fluttered delicately onto the wooden seat. His wings twitched with nerves until he forced them still. He really didn’t want to test whether Schlatt’s shaky hands could handle it. 

Schlatt’s hooves scuffed the floors as he came around until he stood directly in Tubbo’s blind spot. His suit had a large hole in the back for his wings for easy access. It made his body crawl. _Run, run, inform the colony! DANGER!_ Tubbo bit his lip. 

A large meaty hand clamped down at the base of his top right forewing.

Tubbo let out a muffled buzz.

_Don’t struggle, don’t don’t don’t._

Cold metal pressed against the flimsy edge of his wing. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed balled up fists into his knees. _Stay still, Big T. You can survive this!_ Tommy’s voice echoed in this head before the _scritch_ of the blade came down.

He _screamed_ and staggered forward. 

Schlatt’s other arm clamped around his neck before he could fall off. His fingers scrabbled at it as the scissors cut through his wings inch by torturous inch. He couldn’t _breathe._ His throat hurt. Did it come from his screaming or did Schlatt hold him too tight?

Another snip made him _SCREAM_.

A voice rumbled from behind him, he couldn’t understand it at all. He buzzed at them to _stop stop STOP!_ The smell of bananas thickened in the air. His own distress pheromones made his heart squeeze, _I’m going to die._ His legs kicked back at the broad chest behind him. He buzzed louder for his colony. For _Tommy._

**_SNAP!_ **

Tubbo let out a guttural gurgle at the sick feeling of his stigma exposed, the thick groove at the back of his wings. Nerve endings split open and a cut far too ugly to bear. He could hear the hiss of swears over the sounds of his own sobbing. 

**_SNAP-CRACKLE_ **

The quiet flicker of his wing falling off felt anticlimactic. Yet the cold chill against the jagged stump of his forewing made him shake like a leaf. He wanted to vomit. Tubbo’s nails dug into the pressed fabric of Schlatt’s arm. An oily voice crooned platitudes, he didn’t _understand_ why they didn’t buzz or click at him. They smelled all wrong, of dirt and gold rather than sweet honey and flowers like his old colony-mates.

“Schlatt, _please_ ,” Tubbo gasped out, “D-d-don’t…”

“One down, three more to go.”

He convulsed as metal sheared through his other forewing. Up, down, up, down. His kicking became weaker as sticky amber blood dripped down his back in thick rivlets. No doubt ruining his suit. The waves of pain blurred his thoughts and sense of time.

 _Why did it_ **_hurt_ ** _so much?_

Tubbo gasped as the pain came to a halt. He shuddered in gulps of precious air as the blade stuck in his torn stigma spasmed and twitched. Schlatt swore filthy murder enough to make Tommy blush. Tubbo didn’t care why he stopped. Just glad he did. 

“Damn thing is stuck,” Schlatt tsked, “You got some backbone, kid.”

Tubbo’s tears streamed hot down his cheeks as he sobbed.

“Tubbo, you with me?” 

Schlatt’s arm squeezed around his throat until the pain cut through the cotton clouds of his mind. Tubbo tapped on his arm until he let up. He nodded and swallowed back more sobs in his throat. _Focus, focus, you’ll be out of here soon._

He didn’t let the knowledge Schlatt dwarfed him in more ways than size. Tommy shouted at bigger creatures than this goat. For a wild moment, he considered reaching for his communicator to type— 

What would he even type?

_Come rescue me in a country that’ll kill you on sight? I couldn’t handle being your spy for more than a week? I’m weak like you said._

“Tommy, he’s your best friend isn’t he?” Schlatt hummed, Tubbo wincing as he adjusted his grip on the wretched scissors, “Wilbur used to be your president too. I know transitioning to a new leader can be.... _rough._ ”

Schlatt **tore** the blade out as Tubbo gave a strangled scream.

“Tommy,” Tubbo focused on the ceiling above and not the raspy breathing behind him, “He’s not my best friend anymore. H-he used to be! But I love this country more, sir.”

“Really?”

Tubbo shuddered as Schlatt’s hand rested on his torn stigma, only broken halfway through despite Schlatt hacking away at it. He wanted to fly away from here. Far far away. Where Tubbo didn’t feel like any misspoken word could kill him. Lying through his bloody teeth like it mattered. 

“So you’d have no problem killing him?” Schlatt said, “Call me old-fashioned but I thought loyalty lasted longer than that. Kids these days…” His chuckle echoed through his bristled, “I call **bullshit**.”

**_TWIST-CRACKLE-SNAP!_ **

Tubbo didn’t know what sound he made, only that he knew his vision edged with white and his ears rang. Schlatt didn’t make it quick. Or gentle. Tubbo floated out of his body to escape the pain. 

He smelled bananas, thick around him. 

Every **_twist_ ** sent him reeling back to reality for one terrible moment. Schlatt abandoned the scissors on the nearby desk. His claws twisted his wing past the point of breaking, every twist and turn made his stigma thinner and thinner. Until it came off with a quiet _snap._

His second wing splattered to the ground, Tubbo watched it dull and fade on the tiles. Schlatt stepped on it, dirty hooves breaking what delicate blood vessels remained. Amber blood dribbled through the cracks.

Schlatt leaned down to his ear, “You **_ever_ **betray me, Tubbo, I promise to do so much worse than you can ever imagine. I expect loyalty, my little bee friend, and you won’t see a battle ever again. Ain’t that nice?”

Tubbo dangled in Schlatt’s hold, “Y-y-yes it is, sir…”

“You say you’re for Manberg, then you’re for _me_ too,” Schlatt snarled as his grip changed to dangle Tubbo higher to meet his face, “I need to fix the fucking mess that Wilbur left this country in, I don’t need to worry about my own Cabinet. It’s just another worry on my plate I don’t need. If you got a problem with me? Take it to your _fucking_ grave, insect boy.”

Tubbo couldn’t talk through the blood at the back of his throat.

Schlatt **_thumped_ **his hoof, “UNDERSTAND?”

“ _Yes_!”

“Say crystal clear, I want to hear you say it.”

“Cr- _cry_ —” Tubbo sniffled, “Crystal clear.”

Tubbo flinched as Schlatt huffed in his face, his breath thick with the sting of alcohol. His antennas flat against his hair to smell less of it. Eugh. He could see the glints of a grin even as Tubbo avoided his golden eyes. Bloody... _bastard._

He thought he couldn’t find anyone meaner than a _wasp_ , but boy was he wrong.

Schlatt threw him to the floor, he rolled onto the tiles with a pained scream. His chest gasped and stuttered as sobs shook him. He curled tighter into himself as he registered his own sick ichor stuck to his cheek. To his bristles, to his back, to his own _soul._

Shiny hooves moved into his vision, “I look forward to our partnership, Mr. Secretary of State. Just one more thing and I’ll let you get on with your busy day.”

_What is he — _

The hooves jumped and **_STOMPED!_ **

His last two wings shattered apart at the stigma, nerve endings and tendons exposed against the splattered floors. 

Tubbo couldn’t— 

His wings, his _wings, where is — _

Darkness edged closer and closer and he wanted to let it swallow him. To snatch him away from this accursed room so he could wake up in a soft bed. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. He’s never seen so much blood before.

Did colors look this dull before?

He felt sleepy, a golden sea surrounded him and he wanted to fall beneath the waves, and just _sleep_ until this was a bad dream. His thoughts drifted as he fell deeper into the darkness. He thought about flowers.

_[respawning in 10, 9, 8 —] _

Glass shattered, the sound the only warning before a _jolt_ of electricity coursed through his veins and pressed a hot poker to his torn stigmas. Blinding hot and then gone before he could scream. Red particles swam in front of his vision.

“—ealing potion will fix you right up,” Schlatt said from behind him, “Pick yourself up kid, you look unprofessional on the floor.”

Tubbo obeyed with shaky arms, his thoughts too scattered to click back into reality yet. His palms made tiny squelches as he pushed himself up. Blood coming away in a fine golden dust. Tubbo didn’t think, he operated on auto-pilot.

Like some Redstone puppet.

His muscles spasmed but he didn’t fly.

His stigmas crackled as he pulled his legs underneath him. Tiny and weak, black bristles rustling as it strained to remember to stand up. He wobbled then fell over on the broken glass of the healing pot. Tubbo hissed at his stinging palms. More blood dripped to the floor. He tried again. Like some new bee stumbling out of its cocoon.

He gripped the edges of the desk and pulled himself up.

Schlatt sat behind it with an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

His legs threatened to fall from underneath him again. Bloody things. Tubbo bit down on his lips as he twitched his antennas to gauge his balance. He stood up.

Tubbo flinched as Schlatt moved his hand.

A napkin fluttered past his cheek.

“Clean yourself up,” Schlatt said, as he looked through his work papers, “You’re dismissed, _birdfood.”_

Ice water sludged through his veins as his stomach dropped. He couldn’t work a protest past his thick tongue. _He called me…._ **_that._ ** _The-the-the word. I don’t have win_ — he stopped himself.

But he knew a dismissal when he heard it.

Tubbo pushed himself off the desk and used the momentum to not quite walk, but as so much to fall with style, towards the door. His muscles worked on auto-pilot. Antennas twitching not only for balance but to see if Schlatt _moved_. Any disturbance in the air. The calm before the storm, the shadow before the swipe, the glint of a sword. 

Nothing.

Tubbo twisted the knob. Unlocked. A touch of surprise but quickly overwhelmed by relief as sunshine warmed his face and he heard the chatter of a busy nation. 

He teetered-tottered the whole way home to the Embassy, his hands tracing the walls for support, and grateful for his tiny size to be practically invisible.

Yet as Tubbo pulled himself under the covers in the basement, he couldn’t escape the feeling of Schlatt’s eyes on his back.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some kudos and comments!! I've been really excited about this AU bc I'm gonna give the gays everything they want like with Foxbur + hoglin!Techno ;))
> 
> [Here's a snapshot of everyone's references in this AU <3](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/420760154913636362/786389061811830784/Centaur_AU.PNG)
> 
> hope you guys enjoy :D!


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